


Filthy Frat - Part 2

by DirtyKnots



Series: Filthy Frat Verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, David Whittemore - Freeform, Exhibitionism, Father/Son Incest, Felching, Incest, Isaac Lahey - Freeform, KINKTOBER2017, M/M, OMCs - Freeform, Public Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Vernon Boyd - Freeform, jackson whittemore - Freeform, minor characters - Freeform, scott McCall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 17:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kinktober 2017 - Day 3Public|Biting|Sthenolagnia (Strength/Muscles)Anon: If this is interfering with your original ideas, feel free to ignore, but are some of the boys in your frat au legacies? AKA are some of their dads among the alumni being serviced? :333It seems the Frat's president isn't the only one who likes to get up to some fun.





	Filthy Frat - Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> As always, read all the tags.

Stiles doesn’t even have time to tuck himself away before Derek is dragging him out of the bathroom by the hand and steering them towards the living room. He’d be more concerned about his cock flopped out of his pants except he’s pretty sure Derek just sucked his brain out through it so he doesn’t protest. He stumbles a little when they finally reach the main room of the frat house and he sees a lot more scenes like the one he’d just walked in on in the bathroom. There are dudes sprawled all over the place in various states of disarray. Stiles can feel his mouth drop open at the displays in front of him.

  
One of the brother’s (whose name he can’t remember) is shoved half over the back of the couch, pants around his ankles, an alumni behind him, dress shirt tucked up under his pits and slacks hanging just below his own ass, pounding away, the squelch of lube audible even above the chorus of moans and groans spreading through the room. He spots Boyd, one of his pledge class brothers, tucked in a corner, pants open and cock jutting out from his arched hips, Isaac (another pledge class brother) and an alumni making out around it, tongues joining as they slide along his shaft. The alumni looks vaguely familiar and it takes only a few minutes to flash back to that same man threatening to have him and Scott locked up for a prank they pulled on his kid back in high school. Stiles is reeling from the shock at seeing David Whittemore on his knees, trying to simultaneously suck on Boyd’s cock and make out with Isaac, only half-succeeding at either (but again, Boyd seems pretty into it, as do the men at his feet).

  
Seeing that man on his knees reminds Stiles that Jackson is here too and he glances around, spots him standing next to Scott, who seems a little thrown by all the debauchery going on around them. Jackson’s expression is hard to sort out - he’s staring at the corner where his dad is (adoptive father, a voice in Stiles’ head supplies) with a mix of anger, shame, and something that looks an awful lot like hunger. Stiles is far too buzzed to handle any of that. He thinks briefly about retreating to where Scott is anyhow, Jackson’s confusing expression and general douchiness be damned, but only gets half a step before he remembers Derek is still holding his hand. His eyes drift briefly down, marveling at their interlaced fingers, before his gaze tracks up Derek’s body slowly, drinking in the sight of those too-tight jeans that Stiles had been trying so hard to ignore before tonight, mouth watering at the obvious bulge straining against the front of them. He sidles closer to Derek, sees that he’s taking in the rest of the room with a slight furrow to his brow.

  
Stiles is about to ask...something, he’s not really sure what, when the expression clears up and his face breaks into a sunny smile. Stiles may or may not choke a little because god damn is this man beautiful when he’s smiling. He follows Derek’s line of sight and notices another hot as the burning sun man making his way into the room from the front door. The dude is definitely older, maybe late 40s/early 50s, but he’s built like a brick house. His bronzed skin is dusted liberally with dark hair, beard full and peppered through with grey, his hair a little long and matching. He’s headed straight for them and Stiles can feel the stutter in his heart as it begins to pound anew. Derek steps forward, free arm reaching out to pull the man in, mouth latching onto the newcomer’s in a filthy kiss. Stiles wonders if this guy can taste the remnants of the two loads Derek swallowed less than 10 minutes ago, wonders if he’d care if he could. The man lets out a pleased hum, one hand snaking down to squeeze Derek’s ass, the other settling on Stiles’ shoulder as he leans back from the kiss, eyes turning on him, assessing. Derek turns, still half in the man’s arms, and blushes faintly.

  
“Ah, yeah, sorry. Stiles, this is my dad, Gael. Dad, this is Stiles.” Stiles was pretty sure he’d finished being shocked for the night, right up until that second.

  
“Your...dad?”

  
“Yeah, my dad.” Derek’s voice takes on a bit of an edge, eyes flickering around the room again, hand loosening in Stiles’. It’s enough for him to take a breath and tighten his own grip, turning a smile on Gael.

  
“Nice to meet you.” He puts his free hand out, is slightly offended when Gael just laughs a little and pushes it away. Only slightly though, because Gael is turning his body and pulling Stiles in, head dipping down to capture his mouth. The kiss starts off a little chaste, but it doesn’t stay that way long. Gael’s tongue runs across the seam of Stiles’ lips and he parts them obligingly, moaning when Gael’s tongue sweeps into his mouth. He feels Derek release his hand, is about to pull back and apologize when there’s a heavy weight at his back and Derek’s hands (he’s pretty sure they’re Derek’s) wrap around him, one going up to stroke across his chest, the other toying with the trail of hair leading down to his rapidly refilling cock, lips on the back of his neck, nibbling and sucking. He can’t help but arch his ass back, feels the hardness of Derek’s cock against his cheeks through two layers of denim. Gael is still devouring his mouth, moving in until he’s pressed against Stiles’ front, the softness of his dress pants giving Stiles an interesting new friction to press against. He can feel when his cock starts leaking precome, the tip sliding more easily against the body in front of him. His body feels alight with sensation, everything else falling away as he’s pressed tight between the father and son - part of him tells him he shouldn’t enjoy this so much, that it’s taboo, that it’s not right, but the rest of him doesn’t care - it feels too good. Besides, they’re all adults. He can feel a shuffling movement, his body pressed into from both sides, easily being led to wherever these two men want to take him.

  
There’s a small jolt as Gael runs up against something, then the man is pulling back from the kiss, teeth nipping Stiles’ bottom lip before he drags himself all the way out of it. His eyes are twinkling as he takes in what Stiles is sure is a very dazed expression, Derek still grinding up against him from behind. Gael drops down onto the sofa, face almost next to the brother (whose name Stiles still can’t remember) that’s being thoroughly fucked by a different alumni now. Gael twists his head a little, hand wrapping in the brother’s hair and drawing him into a brief but sloppy kiss, the flush on the brother’s skin reigniting when Gael ends the kiss and flicks a nipple before turning back to Stiles. He pulls Stiles forward, hands slipping to the waist of Stiles’ pants and shoving them down, leaving him bare-assed, fingers kneading his cheeks, dragging them apart before releasing them to fall back together, smirking when Derek groans at the sight. He slouches further down on the sofa, encouraging Stiles to step out of his pants (steadying him when he seems like he’s going to fall because shoes). When Stiles is clear of them, Gael pulls him forward a little harder until he’s braced with his knees on either side of the man. He watches in confusion for a few seconds as Gael slips down even further until Stiles’ cock is at mouth level, then shudders out a breath when Gael’s tongue darts out licking a stripe up it.

  
“Derek.”

  
“Hmm?”

  
“Why don’t you be a good boy, get Stiles all wet for daddy?” Stiles feels a flash of heat and glances over his shoulder when Gael starts talking to Derek, sees the shudder that the words invoke, especially when Gael’s hands reach back and pull his cheeks apart again, his hole twitching in the cool air. He can see a pleased spark in Gael’s gaze before the man leans forward and sucks Stiles’ cock down like a pro, bobbing up and down on it easily, throat relaxed whenever he slides down far enough for Stiles to hit it. Stiles can feel his eyes rolling back in his head, amazed that this is the second time tonight that his cock is in someone’s mouth. He doesn’t have long to revel in it though before there’s a warm breath tickling the hair around his hole. He can feel it clench and unclench a few times, nervous excitement twitching through him. He’s on the verge of begging Derek to touch him when something finally happens, warm wet trailing from the back of his balls all the way up his taint. He groans and thrusts his ass back, silently asking for more. He can feel the smile against his ass, Derek’s beard rubbing roughly against his most sensitive spots before the man’s tongue goes into full work mode, lapping at his hole, circling before plunging in as far as it can. Gael adjusts easily to Stiles’ frantic motions, body rocking forward and back, unsure if he wants to grind his ass onto Derek’s face or shove his cock down Gael’s throat.

  
His cock slips free of Gael’s mouth briefly when Derek adds a finger to his ministrations, sliding it up to the knuckle with ease, Stiles’ ass sloppy with spit. He thinks he hears the snick of a lube cap being popped over the noise of the others in the room moaning but he’s not positive until another finger joins the first in his ass, fingers spreading in him, trying to stretch him out even as Derek hungrily dives back in, tongue trying to get further in than Stiles thinks it can. A third finger is added shortly after, Derek giving up trying to tongue fuck him and instead sucking on his rim while his fingers open Stiles up. He can feel the hardness of Gael pressing under him, wonders if the tip of that cock is rubbing against Derek as he eats Stiles’ ass. Part of him hopes it is, hopes it’s leaving sticky trails of pre in Derek’s beard. He’s losing himself in the fantasy and the sensations riding his body when he feels a tap at his hip, gentle hands easing him back up fully onto his knees before there’s a blunt cockhead pushing against his rim. It jolts him back to reality quick enough, lips parting in surprise. The cock holds steady, not breaching him, until he looks down at Gael, sees the question in his face. He nods and is rewarded with the feeling of the cock pushing against him, the head slipping in with more ease than he expected. Still, he sinks slowly onto it, despite his urge to slam himself down, moaning when he's fully seated.

  
Gael gives him a minute to adjust before helping Stiles lift himself up and down on his cock, his own hips working counterpoint and jolting every time they meet. The angle is amazing, Gael’s cockhead glancing off Stiles’ prostate every few strokes. Stiles is digging his fingers into Gael's shoulders, back arched as he tries to gain more leverage to ride the man, working into a rhythm that stutters when he feels Derek's tongue lapping at his rim again. He groans and does his best to twist and look, wants to see Derek trying to eat him out around his own father's cock, Stiles’ dick leaking copiously at the images his brain is conjuring. He makes a frustrated sound when he realizes he's not quit flexible enough and hears Gael laugh softly. He can feel a shift as Derek moves away and Gael taps his side to get his attention.

  
“Go on, up and off, turn around.” He does as he's instructed, hole clenching when he's suddenly empty before he steps off the sofa and turns around. Gael's arms come up around his waist then, dragging him backwards. He's pulled into Gael's lap before the man hooks his hands under Stiles’ knees, spreading his legs until they're draped on either side of his own. When he has Stiles spread as open as he can be, Gael shifts until they're situated in such a way that Derek can crawl between his thighs, which he does as soon as he grabs the wall mirror that had been hanging on a door, propping it against the end table and angling it so Stiles and his father have a good view of where Gael is easing his cock back into Stiles’ hole. They both moan at the sight, eyes glued to where Gael is shallowly pumping in and out of Stiles, the new angle making it hard for him to gain leverage. Derek watches for a minute, pupils dilating, before he licks his lips and dives back in, tongue sliding up his daddy's cock before wiggling against Stiles’ hole, trying to slide inside along with it.

  
Stiles has to squeeze his own cock to stave off his second orgasm, wanting to see how long this lasts, body twitching with every thrust, every swipe of tongue. His cock leaks as he watches Derek struggle to remove his own pants, revealing his own uncut cock, pre drooling out of it. Stiles reaches his free hand out to card through Derek's hair, smiles when he makes a noise of encouragement and Stiles can fit it tighter, putting pressure and holding Derek's face closer to his ass. He can feel Derek's every breath against him, enjoys the small moans the man let's out every time he sucks in a deep breath. He can feel Gael's arms dragging beneath his legs again, the older man lifting him up and driving his own hips faster. Stiles can see his balls tensing up in the mirror, watches as Derek slides his tongue back down his daddy's shaft and sucks the balls into his mouth, spit dribbling out of the corners. He feels Gael tense behind him before he moans long and low, hips grinding as he shoots his load. Stiles does his best to milk the cock spurting inside of him, clenching around it. He can feel a few dribbles of come leaking out around Gael's softening cock before Derek makes a hungry noise and dives back in, slurping up the drips as Gael lifts Stiles enough to slip out of him before settling him back down, hands drifting up to play with Stiles’ nipples as Derek seals his mouth around Stiles’ hole and sucks.

  
He can't help the cry he lets out or the way his back arches. He thinks this might be better than anything he's felt before, Derek's tongue digging in his loose hole, sloppy with spit and lube and come, trying to eat out his own daddy's load like he's starving for it. He tightens the hand on his cock, trying desperately to hold on as he watches that tongue flick in and out of him, dragging the come out, Derek's lips smacking at the taste before he goes back in for more. He can't hold back for long though, especially not once Derek slips in a finger again alongside his tongue, pressing against Stiles’ prostate as he slurps and sucks around it. He shoots so hard he's afraid he's going to blackout, body going lax as Derek pulls back and stands. He watches, a little comedrunk, as Derek slicks up his cock before pulling on Stiles’ legs, angling him so he can drive down into him, sliding home with no resistance.

Stiles watches his own cock twitch with interest, though it's too soon to get hard again. Derek fucks him with abandon, cock battering at his overworked prostate, balls slapping against his ass. He gets one smile from Derek before he’s leaning past Stiles’ face, mouth colliding with his father’s in a kiss that’s more teeth than tongue. Stiles moans a little at the sight, wishing he hadn’t come so recently as he watches them make out, Gael still holding him open while Derek plows into him. It doesn’t take long before Derek starts to lose his rhythm, hips stuttering as he get’s closer to the edge. He doesn’t let go though until Gael drops his hand from Stiles’ thigh and reaches down to cup his son’s balls, fingers caressing the underside of Derek’s shaft as he spills into Stiles, come leaking out of him before Derek drops back to his knees and mouths at his hole again, tongue lapping up the mess he made.

  
“He’s such a good boy, isn’t he Stiles? Always cleaning up after himself.” Gael’s voice is warm and husky in Stiles’ ear as he eases Stiles’ legs back down. He strokes his hands up Stiles’ sides until Derek seems finished, then tips them sideways on the now empty sofa, pulling Stiles tight against him as Derek climbs in front. It’s a tight squeeze, but not as bad as Stiles would’ve guessed. He hadn’t paid attention, but the frat must have bought the extra deep sofas - probably for reasons very similar to what they were doing now. His mind was drifting, he could feel it happen, but he was too worn out to reign it in. He felt more than heard when Gael laughed behind him, his body jostling with it, before Derek cupped his face in his hands.

  
“Stiles, you with us?” He nodded sleepily, was rewarded with a soft peck to his lips and a smile that lit up Derek’s face. He wanted to comment on it, but all of the activity was catching up to him. He got another kiss on his forehead from Derek, and one to the back of his neck from Gael, before he felt two strong sets of arms wrap around him. He drifted off, warm and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to prompt me if you'd like to see something added to this verse! You can comment anonymously on any of the parts or you can find me on [Dreamwidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/) \- where all of my additional contact locations are linked!


End file.
